


Culpabilité

by sparkinside



Category: AFI
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2801582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinside/pseuds/sparkinside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse into a life shattered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Culpabilité

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to Carrie (Seventh) for being my cheerleader, sounding board, and driving force for this piece. Without your help this would probably still be sitting unfinished on my hard drive.
> 
> Just a heads up, there is implied Het in this piece, but only in the context of character background.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work if fiction. It never happened and I am not making any profit from this.

The soft patter of rain against the window pane echoed throughout the silent room. What once had been a soothing sound, comforting and safe, now drove him near madness. It had awakened him from what little sleep he had managed to find. A quick glance at the glowing red numbers confirmed his thinking. He’d only been asleep for barely two hours. 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he pulled himself up in his bed. There was little chance of him falling back to sleep now. He hated that. True, he had never been a completely sound sleeper, but now he was lucky if he managed to gather three hours in a row. And even if he had managed that, it was rare that his sleep was truly restful. But he’d gotten used to that, he hadn't had much of a choice. Especially since the nightmares had come back in full force in the last few weeks. It was always this way. Especially now with the anniversary so close.

He groped blindly at the bedside table for a few minutes before his fingers brushed against the smooth plastic of the remote control. He knew there wasn't much on, especially at this hour, but mindless infomercials had to be better than staring at the ceiling for the next four hours. 

As much as he’d hated it, this seemed to have become an almost nightly ritual. He’d managed to get an hour or two of sleep in before something, regardless of how small, woke him, then he would spend however many hours before dawn lying in bed, watching whatever programming happened to come on. Silently, he flipped on the small television set. Another mindless evening of channel surfing, he couldn't wait.

The bright light emanating from the television set illuminated the room, and he leaned back against the cool wood of the headboard. He wasn't quite comfortable, but at the moment he didn't much care. He wasn't going to be able to get back to sleep anyway; there didn't seem much use in pretending to do so. 

He sighed, slowly flipping through the channels. There were times he honestly wondered why he owned a television in the first place. Nothing was ever on; in all honestly it was just another bill he had to pay at the end of every month, one in an ever growing pile. He had half a mind to just cancel his cable bill and say the hell with it, but in all honesty what would that solve in the end?

Two more tours around the stations and he settled on a random infomercial, something to do with toasters or the like - he really wasn't paying it much mind. It was little more than background noise as far as he was concerned. Just loud enough to give his ears something to tune into. 

Shifting again, he brought one of the various pillows he’d taken to sleeping with and propped it behind his back. As much as he said he didn't care about comfort, the last thing he needed was a stiff and sore back. Life was already interesting enough with little sleep. Pain, he was sure, would not make him the happiest of campers. 

He rolled his eyes towards the bedside table and groaned, it had only been an hour. Jesus, this was going to be a very long night. Absently, his eyes wandered downward, settling on the phone lying beside the clock. He sighed, knowing he should just pick up the phone and call. Davey wouldn't mind. Hell, he would still more than likely be awake. 

Closing his eyes, he forced the thought from his mind. It was a stupid idea anyway. And besides, it was just a bout of insomnia, it would pass. No need to drag his friend into it. That was far from the truth, and he knew it. It wasn't going to just go away. Not without medications and doctors and he’d dealt with enough of that. No, he didn't need anymore, not now, not ever. He was done with all of that.

Had he not learned to block out background noises years ago, the clamoring coming from the kitchen hours later would have set off alarms bells in his mind. Whatever it was, (though he was sure it was one of his bandmates bringing around groceries), if they really wanted something in the apartment they could have it. 

Pulling himself from the bed, he slowly made his way towards the kitchen. He groped blindly down the dimly lit hallway, not bothering with the lights. His throat was killing him and the stash of bottled water he’d kept in the bedroom had run out last night. He’d half considered grabbing another case from the pantry last night but hadn't gotten around to it. One more thing he hadn't found the energy to do. He never seemed to have the energy anymore, even the trip towards the kitchen took the majority of the energy he’d had.

Rounding the corner, he caught a quick flash of dark hair and a colorful arm. Davey. “You don’t seem to get the concept of knocking do you, Dave?”

There was a loud clank before Davey whirled around, smiling. “So you finally emerged from your cave?”

A grunt was his only response as he pushed past his friend and into the kitchen. Silently he rummaged through the pantry, cursing as he knocked a can of green beans from the shelf, the can clattering to the floor. “Fucking piece of shit...”

“Adam, hey,” Davey spoke up, grabbing Adam by his arm. “I got it. Don’t worry about it.” He bent down, grabbing the can. “Why didn't you just ask me for help?”

Anger flashed in Adam’s eyes, “Because I’m not a fucking invalid, David. I can get the damned bottle myself.” Defiantly, Adam pushed Davey’s arm off of his own. With determination etched strongly in his features, he pulled himself farther up into the pantry. The pack of bottled waters was inches from his fingertips. Just a little farther and he’d have it. Just one more inch and he’d...

He felt himself flying forward a spilt second before his brain caught onto what was happening. _Shit_. There was little Adam could do to stop his forward descent, save throwing up his arms to hopefully break some of his fall. “Fuck!” Adam’s hands slammed into the cool tile of the kitchen floor, sending a wave of intense pain up both of his arms. “Fuck!” 

“Jesus fuck, Carson!” He jerked violently away as Davey’s hand came to rest on his shoulder. But this seemed to do little to deter his friend. “Why the fucking HELL do you have to be so damned stubborn?” Davey continued to yell, pulling Adam back from the pantry as he did so. “You are going to kill yourself if you keep this up!”

Adam’s head snapped up, his eyes dark with frustration and anger. “Don’t.” His tone startled Davey, his hand falling from the man’s shoulder once again. “I can fucking take care of myself.”

The chuckle that fell from Davey’s lips was anything but lighthearted, “And you’re doing a real bang up job of that now aren't you?”

“Fuck off, Havok,” Adam hissed, his arms shaking with effort as he attempted to push himself off the floor. His eyes darted briefly around the kitchen, surveying the damage. The shelf that he’d caught his hand on had emptied its contents all across the tiled floor. Luckily, nothing had burst open on impact, but it would take a while to get everything back to its proper place.

Once righted, Adam groped behind him until his fingers locked around cool metal and rubber. Pulling it to his side, Adam struggled once more to heave himself upwards back into the blasted chair he would be confined to for the rest of his miserable existence. The chair nearly toppled over once more, forcing another string of curses to fly from his lips. Glaring, Adam shoved his chair right and began the struggle to pull himself back onto it.

Fucking Davey and his fucking need to be involved in everything. Adam was fuming now; his lack of concentration made the task at hand all the more difficult and he found himself once more against the floor of the kitchen. A growl pushed itself from his chest and he struggled once more to pull himself upwards toward his chair.

Humiliation coursing through him, Adam found himself struggling three more times before he had finally righted himself. Davey had stepped in which had only served to frustrate Adam more. It was bad enough not being able to do the things he had taken for granted years ago. Having his best friend, however inadvertently, recognize and highlight that weakness, stung.

In the back of his mind, Adam knew he was overreacting; knew that he was being unnecessarily cruel, but that made little impact on him in that moment. Refusing to look his friend in the eyes, Adam pushed himself slowly back towards his room. He didn't have to look behind him to know that Davey was silently following. 

Pushing himself towards the old chest of drawers in the far corner of the room, Adam grabbed the first clean shirt his fingers touched, pulling his old one over his head and tossing it towards the hamper. Adam knew he was in desperate need of a shower, but he didn't care. There really wasn't a point. Davey had seen him far worse off. He yanked the tattered white t-shirt on before climbing back onto his bed.

He didn't bother to raise his eyes as he felt Davey settle beside him on the bed. Absent-mindedly, Adam turned his attention back to the television; the infomercials had given way to the morning news. He half listened as the news anchors blathered on about the latest scandal, smirking at the ridiculousness of it all.

“You can’t keep shutting us out, Adam,” Davey started after it had become apparent that Adam planned on simply ignoring him until he would, frustrated, leave. It was the same farce they seemed to play every time Davey came by with the groceries, twice a week without fail. “You've been ignoring my calls for days now. And I know for a fact that Hunter’s stopped by at least once.” He paused, watching his fingers play with the hem of his shirt, before speaking again. “This isn't good for you, Ad. We’re worried.”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want to,” Adam cut his friend off with a clipped, cold tone; “you’re not my Goddamned mother.” He threw the remote onto the bed beside him, closing his eyes. He was being childish and petty, but it did little to stop the words pouring from his lips.

Wordlessly, Davey moved closer to Adam on the bed. “No, I’m not your mother. But I’m your friend, dammit. And this is frankly scaring me. You can’t keep doing this to yourself, you can’t keep pushing people away. We love you, Adam.” He let his hand unconsciously reach towards Adam’s face, his fingers ghosting along the strong line of Adam’s jaw.

At this touch, Adam’s eyes flew open, jerking his head back from the touch. Davey visibly tensed, opening his mouth to apologize. “Don’t,” he hissed. The words died on Davey’s lips. “Just don’t.” His eyes were cold as they locked, just momentarily, on Davey's concerned ones before dropping to the bedspread.

Anger and frustration coursed through him and he wanted, more than anything, to just be able to run away. To get off this bed and throw Davey and his maddening concern out of the front door and out of his life. It was all too much. He closed his eyes once more, trying desperately to control the warring emotions flowing through him. He just wanted to forget. But no matter what he did, he knew that would never be the case. And God knows he’d tried.

_The whiskey burned the back of his throat as he swallowed. It was the cheapest stuff he could find and that was just fine with him. Whatever would get the job done. He just wanted to forget. Forget that he was alone. That she was never, ever coming back. And it was all his fault. He’d killed her. She was gone and he was still here. It was all so fucked up; so completely and utterly fucked up. He blinked, feeling the burn of tears running down his cheeks. God, he just needed to forget._

_The bottle slipped from his fingers, spilling the amber liquid across the wooden floor. He cursed and clumsily reached for it with outstretched fingers, falling unceremoniously out of his chair and onto the floor. Another string of curses fell from his lips, slurred and violent. Fuck this stupid fucking chair. And fuck his godforsaken useless legs._

_He remembered with a spreading numbness waking in the hospital, his mind clouded with pain and morphine, calling out her name as the horrific memories came rushing back. The look on the doctor’s face when she told him that she had been killed on impact; neutral and coldly blank. “She didn't suffer, Mr. Carson,” she went on but he hadn't been listening. He’d lain there shell-shocked as his world imploded in spectacular glory around him._

_The fact that he had been paralyzed, probably would never walk again, did not register for several days. And by that point, Adam honestly hadn't cared. It was the least he deserved. He should have died too._

_The weeks and months that followed were a blur of therapists and rehab and more medications than he’d ever taken in his entire life. “It will get better,” they promised. “It wasn't your fault.” They were lies, all of them. Of course it was his fault. He should have been paying more attention. He should have been able to keep her safe._

_He’d missed the funeral, he’d been stuck in the hospital awaiting surgery. And that fact had eaten at him. He’d completely shut down, mechanically working through the countless hours of rehab and counseling that had been hoisted upon him. When they’d felt he’d made “sufficient progress” he was discharged and found himself alone in the apartment they had found together, the one they planned to start their life together in._

_That first night he’d drunk himself into a stupor and nearly destroyed the place. His knuckles were bruised and bleeding and he’d been drenched in sweat. But he hadn’t cared. It didn’t bring her back, nothing would, but for those brief hours he’d been blissfully numb._

_But it hadn't lasted. He’d woken up the next afternoon to a throng of concerned friends and family and to a fresh wave of pain and guilt. He was treated with kid gloves after that; never left alone, never really trusted. It grated at his last nerve and he’d responded with unusual levels of cruelty until only a handful of the initial group remained. And even the majority of them had drifted away as time passed._

_He was crying in earnest now, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist. It was only matter of time until he was well as truly alone and it was nothing more than he deserved._

Adam jumped when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. Davey had settled beside him with a look of deep concern and pain in his eyes. Indignation burned inside him. He didn't want his concern and he sure as hell didn't need his pity. In that moment he hated Davey and is infuriating need to charge in head first and fix everything and everyone. He hated him more than he’d ever hated another person in his life.

“I know you miss her,” Davey began quietly, ignoring the way he felt Adam stiffen beneath his touch. “But Adam, it wasn't your fault. You can’t keep carrying this in you.”

“You don’t know anything!” Adam’s blue eyes blazed with fury and he pulled away from Davey's touch as if he’d been burned. “You don’t fucking know ANYTHING!”

Davey stiffened, pushing himself up off the bed. “You’re right, Adam! I don’t know! But Jesus CHRIST, Adam, this isn't you! This person isn't you. God if she could see you now…” He’d regretted the words as soon as they flew from him. But it was far too late. He’d gone too far this time.

“GET OUT!”

“Adam…” Davey began, slowly reaching out to the man seated before him.

“NO!” Adam snarled, “You have NO RIGHT! NO FUCKING RIGHT! You think because you are one of the few FUCKING people who has the nerve to show his face that you have ANY RIGHT to talk about HER to me?!”

Davey visibly flinched at the harsh and bitter words that were flung at him. He’d known better than to push Adam when he was like this. It only made things worse. But, God, seeing his oldest friend, one of the people he cared deeply for, tear himself to pieces _hurt_.

“You have some FUCKING nerve, Havok,” Adam hissed, his eyes blazing with anger and pain.

Balling his fists, Davey stalked closer to the bed until his face was level with Adam’s. “No,” he began, his voice a dead calm, “I have some FUCKING concern. You are KILLING yourself, Adam! Do you have any idea what that is doing to the people who love you? Your parents? Me?” Adam opened his mouth but Davey raised his hand, effectively cutting him off. “It’s been three fucking years, Adam. THREE YEARS. I know it hurts and I know you miss her, but JESUS you are killing yourself! If you had your way, you’d have drunk yourself into an early grave YEARS ago!” Davey's eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed, “You don’t have to do this to yourself.”

“I don’t HAVE to do anything! I don’t WANT to do ANYTHING! I just want HER. I don’t need ANYTHING else! Especially not YOU!” Adam snapped, his chest heaving.

The color drained slowly from Davey's face, “Adam…I’m sorry I know you’re hurting but I…”

“NO,” he roared back, “You don’t fucking know SHIT. I’m not some fucking PROJECT for you, David! You can’t fucking FIX me!”

“That’s not fair…”

“NOTHING is fucking FAIR! If things were fucking FAIR she would still BE HERE! ”

“But she’s not Adam,” Davey began, cautiously, “I wish she was but…”

“Don’t fucking LIE, Dave. Not to ME! You NEVER liked her, not really – ”

Frozen, Davey found himself staring in bewilderment and pain at the man he thought he knew. Adam’s temper had always been legendary and over the years Davey had experienced it first-hand. But this was different. The angry, bitter man before him barely resembled the man he’d come to know, to care for. “That’s not true.”

“The FUCK it isn't! You really think I am THAT blind?! I've always fucking KNOWN , Dave. You bided your FUCKING time and then you FUCKING pounced when you _KNEW_ I couldn’t get AWAY!”

_He hadn't heard the door, hadn't noticed that he was no longer alone, until a strong pair of colorful arms wrapped around him. He was too weak to fight against the tide of emotions warring through him so he gave way to them, letting his body shake with the force. He vaguely registered soothing words being murmured into his ear but couldn't make sense of them. He sobbed until there was nothing left, taking the small amount of comfort offered, even though he knew he did not deserve it. He was simply too tired to fight._

_When he gathered enough strength, Adam forced his eyes to open and focus on the person holding him. It was Davey. Adam let out a humorless chuckle that sounded more like a groan of pain to his own ears. It was almost comical how Davey always seemed to be the one to pick up the shattered pieces of Adam’s broken existence._

_He heard Davey whisper his name and tried to clear enough of his clouded thoughts to answer. It hurt trying to focus enough to keep the room from spinning around him at a sickening speed. “You come by to celebrate with me?” He slurred at his friend, nodding clumsily at the spilled bottle of whiskey._

_Davey didn't answer. Instead, he stood walking from the room in the vague direction of the kitchen. Adam closed his eyes once more, trying in vain to keep himself from becoming sick all over the living room floor. He heard, rather than saw, Davey return a few moments later followed by the distinctive rustle of a plastic bag. He cracked open one eye and found Davey picking up the spilled bottle, giving it a look of disgust, before tossing it into the garbage bag in his hand._

_Task finished, he turned his attention back to Adam’s prone form. He sighed once and knelt beside his disheveled friend. “Adam,” he started, “Why are you doing this?”_

_Adam blinked and chuckled once more, before answering. “Hurt’s too much.” The words were slurred but the honesty Davey heard in them broke his heart. Without a word, he pulled Adam to him once more, offering what little solace he could. He wanted, more than anything, to be able to take his pain away, even if it was just for a moment. He couldn't stand seeing the one of the strongest people he knew so broken and defeated._

_Davey placed a light kiss on the top of Adam’s head and held him tightly, grateful that he hadn't been pushed away. It wasn't much, but Davey didn't know what else he could do. He continued to murmur whatever soft words of comfort and encouragement that spilled into his conscious mind until he felt Adam relax against him._

_Pulling back slightly, Davey found himself studying the man before him; taking in the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the lines that had formed on his brow, and the exhaustion that seemed to settle over his friend. Adam’s eyes were closed, and for that Davey had been grateful. He didn't think he could bear to look into their haunting blue and see that pain and anguish that had taken residence over the past year._

_Adam opened his bleary eyes, sensing Davey's movement and forced a half-hearted smile, which was far more like a grimace than Davey cared to note. “Thank you,” he murmured softly._

_Davey smiled genuinely, “You know I’d do anything for you.”_

_“Make the pain go away,” Adam whispered, somberly, his eyes closing once more._

_The words tugged painfully at Davey's heart. He wanted to do just that. So very, very badly. But how could he pick up the shattered pieces of his friend and try to put him back together again when he didn't know if such things were possible._

_He’d seen Adam with her, seen the devotion and the love between them. Losing that love had nearly killed Adam. How could Davey hope to fix that? If only he could…_

_Impulsively, Davey unwrapped his arms from around Adam’s thin body and placed them on his face, pulling it so they were level with one another. Startled by the movement, Adam’s eyes opened once more, looking at Davey in confusion. “What?”_

_Without a word, Davey placed his lips gently against Adam’s. The kiss was gentle and unhurried, Davey trying to pour all of the comfort and love he could into the gesture. He wanted Adam to know that someone still loved him; that there were still things worth living for, even if he couldn’t see them now._

_The kiss ended as quickly as it had begun. When they had parted Davey found Adam looking at him with confusion swimming in his drunken eyes. He didn’t utter a word, terrified he had ruined everything with that stupid, impulsive kiss. Adam blinked once more before closing his eyes and mumbling that he was tired. Quietly, Davey helped him back into the over turned chair and back to his cluttered bedroom._

As he watched the color drain from Davey's face, Adam knew he’d crossed a very real and dangerous line. They had never spoken of the kiss, never acknowledged it. Adam had kept the anger and confusion he’d felt from the kiss buried inside of himself. He’d been furious at Davey for using him like that; for praying on his weakness and striking when he knew there was nothing Adam could do to fight it. But he’d never spoken the words aloud. Part of him had always known the thoughts were irrational; he _knew_ Davey, knew that for all his faults the man wasn't that heartless, but that hadn't stopped him. And now he was far too angry to care.

“You’re a real bastard, you know that Carson?” Davey shot before turning on his heel and walking from the room.

“That’s right, fucking LEAVE,” he yelled, “It’s what you’re good at!” The slamming of the front door was all he’d received in reply. Adam growled into his hands, letting himself fall back against the headboard.

He was alone again and the silence was deafening. Rolling onto his side, Adam pulled a pillow over his head, trying to block out the thoughts swarming in his mind. He forced his eyes closed and fought in vain to make his fucking brain just shut off. But the anger pooling in his stomach refused to be silenced. How fucking DARE he play the god damned victim here? Davey had no FUCKING right.

Irritated, he yanked the pillow off his head and threw it across the room. It thudded against the wall before landing by the opened door. But it didn't make him feel any better. Nothing made him feel any better and he was so sick of it; sick of everything. And what made it worse was the tiny voice in the back of his head whispering that Davey would come crawling back, just like he always did and that the vicious cycle would start all over again.

Adam forced the thought away and tried once more to close his eyes. He just needed to forget. It would all be so much easier if he could just forget.

 

_The past week had been one the most stressful and frustrating weeks in recent memory. Adam could not remember the last time he’d actually gotten a good night’s sleep. Every waking moment, it seemed, had been spent in the studio with his bandmates, going over every aspect of their latest effort with a fine toothed comb. He couldn't remember ever taking such time or putting such effort into an album._

_Normally, they would spend no more than three or four days recording, mixing and finalizing a record. It was all that they could afford. With this record they’d spent that long just working on one track. It blew his mind. For the first time it really hit him that they were really making a record, really putting themselves out there._

_Their entire career seemed to hinge on this record and that terrified him. And now that the record was finally finished, there seemed to be nothing more they could do but sit there and wait. Wait for the record company to give them the all clear for promotion, wait to hear the fan reaction, wait to see just what was in store._

_Adam’s hands tightened on the wheel before him as he attempted to clear his thoughts. There was nothing he could do about it now. He needed to focus on the moment; whatever happened next was now out of his hands. Worrying about it now was not going to change the outcome._

_The hand that settled on his arm startled Adam. “You’re really jumpy tonight.” Her words were soft and he could hear the humor and concern in them. He smiled softly._

_“Sorry, I don’t know where my mind is tonight.” This was supposed to be a fun night. They finished the record, this was their night to celebrate, to kick back and relax. He needed to get back into the right mindset._

_“You've been working too hard; tonight will be good for you. We’re going to smile and laugh and sing ridiculous karaoke songs. It’ll be great.” She had always been one to see the positive side of things, to make him stop and see the big picture when he was so bogged down by the details to see it clearly. And he loved her with all of his being for it._

_Adam took a deep breath and nodded, pulling his attention back towards the road. It had raining off and on for the past hour and at the moment it was pouring hard enough that he was having a hard time seeing the road before him. Driving in rain had always made him nervous. He pushed the small gnawing fear aside; he would be fine, he’d driven this road a hundred times._

_Her hand came to rest on his thigh, giving him a light, reassuring squeeze. He smiled, moving his hand momentarily from the gear shift to squeeze her hand back. She was now looking out of the window, her dark hair pooling over her shoulder._

_The ring on her left hand sparkled in the dim light. He remembered the utter panic that had coursed through him when he’d finally worked up the nerve to ask her to be his wife. The smile she’d given him lit up her entire face as she nodded and pulled him against her. He could remember thinking that it had been the happiest moment of his life. And now he couldn't wait to make more happy moments with her._

_The deafening blare of a horn snapped Adam quickly back to his senses and he watched in horror as an SUV came speeding towards them. He slammed on the brakes and tried to swerve out of the oncoming vehicle’s path. But it was no use. His eyes locked on hers once more, taking in the panic and fear that swam in them before a sickening crash tore all thought from his mind and everything went black._

Adam jerked awake, his eyes darting around the darkened room. It took him several minutes to process that he was in his apartment, not in that car. His lungs burned as he gulped in much needed air and his chest heaved as he fought to control the rapid beating of his heart. It was the same nightmare; always the same fucking nightmare.

Blindly, he reached towards the bedside table, flipping on the lamp. The room flooded with light, forcing Adam to blink rapidly to adjust. He allowed his eyes to sweep across the room once more. It was just a dream. “Just a dream,” he muttered aloud. But the words did little to calm the torrent of emotions running through him.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he settled himself back onto the pillow, knowing that there would be no chance of returning to sleep. He reached towards the bedside table once more, grabbing the remote and turning the television on and flipping mindlessly through the stations. It was an all too familiar routine.

Frustrated, Adam threw the remote onto the bed beside him. Fuck, he wanted a drink. Pulling himself up and into his chair, he made he was down the hall towards the kitchen. The room was dark and he found himself groping against the wall until his hand hit the switch and filled the room with harsh florescent light.

He ignored the cans and bottles scattered across the tiled floor as he made his way farther into the kitchen. He reached up towards a cabinet near the sink, pulling out a familiar glass bottle. He didn't bother with a glass, simply taking the bottle and heading back towards the bedroom.

The alcohol burned the back of his throat as it warmed him. He emptied the bottle before he’d realized it, tossing it onto the floor. He closed his eyes and let the numbing effect flood through him. He knew it wouldn't last but the peace it brought, even for a moment, was worth it.

 

Adam awoke several hours later, his mind foggy and his head pounding. He forced himself to crack one eye open and glance at the clock by the bed. It took him several moments to register the numbers glowing on the display; seven in the morning. He groaned and rolled back over, cradling his head in his hands. He desperately needed Tylenol but knew that if he so much as dared to crawl out of bed to find it he would be violently ill.

He lay there for what felt like hours before he felt he could risk movement. The pounding in his head was still there but it had lessened to a mere agitating roar. Sloppily, Adam pulled himself upright and towards the edge of the bed. It took him several minutes to settle himself into the chair and then several more to ensure that the vertigo he was experiencing wouldn't send him spiraling onto the floor.

With slow and measured movements, he made his way into the bathroom and fumbled in the dark for the trusty white bottle. Popping the cap off, he poured four pills into his hand and then quickly into his mouth. He swallowed, following with several handfuls of water from the tap. Task accomplished, Adam made his way back into the bedroom and back onto the bed. He closed his eyes once more and prayed that the pills would do their job sooner rather than later.

He awoke from a fitful sleep hours later, his head now a barely noticeable throbbing. He rubbed his hands over his eyes, trying to force the images from his mind. The nightmare had come again and he knew that it would keep getting steadily worse as the date drew nearer. He was honest enough with himself to admit that it scared him.

Adam reached for the phone laying on his bedside table and dialed before he consciously knew what he was doing. He needed to hear Davey's voice. He needed the grounding familiarity of his oldest friend, to hear his reassuring laugh and words even when he knew he didn't deserve them. No matter how angry they had been at one another, Davey had always answered, even if it was only to tell Adam off for acting like a dick. He always answered. 

He waited impatiently while the phone rang, and rang, and rang before it finally clicked over to voicemail. Stunned, Adam listened to the generic message before the beep startled him back into the present. “Hey Dave, it’s me,” he breathed, his mouth dry. “Give me a call back when you get this.” He let the phone fall back onto the bed.


End file.
